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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058587">Gift Box (can't get away/don't want to leave)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaDistan/pseuds/SashaDistan'>SashaDistan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ambrosia [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(everybody lives ofc), Anal Sex, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Clothed Sex, Come as Lube, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Half-Galra Keith (Voltron), Kosmo Is A Good Wingman, Love Confessions, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Season/Series 08 Compliant, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-War, Tight Spaces, Top Shiro (Voltron), Virgin Keith (Voltron), messy sex, stuck in a box</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:55:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaDistan/pseuds/SashaDistan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The space wolf has been transporting Keith to odd places without his consent. And now he is in a container, naked, with his best friend and secret crush.<br/>What the fuck is he supposed to do now?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Shiro (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ambrosia [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>575</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gift Box (can't get away/don't want to leave)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_aphorism/gifts">an_aphorism</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I love a niche niche. I want to fill all the niche niches in this fandom with smut and fluff.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The wolf has started showing up and zapping Keith, unasked, into weird places.</p><p class="western">The first few times it happened, Keith was sure in was an accident. Kosmo trotting up with his excited tail and floppy tongue, Keith going in for a hug, and then poof. They'd been three floors up from the training room where Keith had just finished a sparring session against droids, and Kosmo had vanished leaving Keith – sweaty and surprised and off balance – to trip over directly into Shiro.</p><p class="western">Which wouldn't have been so bad, except that Shiro was giving a tour of the Atlas to the new trade delegation from Olkari at the time. The sight of the two Black Paladins of Voltron tangled together on the spotless floor of the Atlas’s main conference room, was one which the Olkari had apparently found amusing. Keith had been mortified, hauling Shiro to his feet and promising himself not to memorize every single touch of his best friend's body against his own.</p><p class="western">And he'd failed spectacularly.</p><p class="western">Each time has been similar, but it’s not as though it happens every time Keith is with his wolf. Kosmo always seems sorry afterwards, head hanging low with his tail tucked between his legs, and Keith can’t stay mad at him.</p><p class="western">But this time, it has to be deliberate.</p><p class="western">Keith comes out of the shower, hair still dripping, to find Kosmo pacing their quarters and looking hungry. He drops his towel, reaching for a pair of boxers, half way through reassuring the giant space wolf that he hasn't actually forgotten about his dinner, when Kosmo presses tight against his leg, and poof!</p><p class="western">Keith isn't sure where he is. It's mostly dark, though he can see pretty well with his sharpened Galra eyesight, and the air coming through a little grate by his head has a recycled quality to it. It’s typical of the lower decks, and Keith figures he's probably still on board the Atlas. There's no view out of the grate, except for what might be the underside of a bench, but Keith's not sure. He hasn't heard or seen any movement, but he also hasn't called out beyond his initial panicked outburst. The one thing he does know is that he is naked without even his knife, and he’s not keen on the idea of having to explain his situation to a random member of the Atlas crew. The fact it’ll probably more embarrassing for them – because half the crew seem to think he’s every inch the hero Shiro is and the other half are terrified of him and the rest of the Blades – isn’t any consolation right now.</p><p class="western">Keith breathes, slowly, counting the way that Shiro taught him to do many years ago when he had been unable to control his temper or his fists. He’s needed to draw on those skills in so many different ways, through loss, and war, and the discovery of being half-alien. It’s nice to be able to think of Shiro’s calming presence instead of freaking out about being stuck in some random, cramped location. He holds the breath, closing his eyes and trying to centre himself, when suddenly there is a whoosh of ozone; the briefest prequel to the wolf zapping in from another place regardless of how far they are from any actual atmosphere. But instead of a lap full of Kosmo, there is only a swift press of fur, and then the wolf is gone once more. Keith is no longer alone in the box.</p><p class="western">Instead of a large space wolf, Keith has a lap full of Takashi Shirogane.</p><p class="western">“What the- Keith!?”</p><p class="western">Shiro sounds intensely panicked, and scrambles away like he can't move fast enough, but there is nowhere to scramble too. The box was small when it was just Keith, but Shiro is much bigger than Keith is. He smacks the back of his head into the ceiling even as his boots thump on the far wall. Keith tries to curl his feet in close to save his bare toes, but somehow that just ends with him nearly kneeing Shiro in the crotch. There is a terrible moment of mad panic where they both try and get out of each other’s way, hands flying everywhere very fast. Keith thinks he's going to die from the sensation of Shiro's warm palm low on his hip, until they knock their heads together painfully hard and cease all movement.</p><p class="western">Shiro is trapped in a half crouch over him, spine hard against the roof of the container, hands braced either side of Keith's head. Their bodies are not touching, though only through a concerted effort to keep their knees out of each other’s soft parts, and the air in the box is already warmer and damper with their panting.</p><p class="western">“Keith?” Shiro sounds a little less panicky now, and Keith is hopeful that whatever situation Kosmo has caused isn’t going to end with Shiro having a PTSD panic attack.</p><p class="western">“Hey Shiro,” Keith aims for a jovial sort of tone, but even to himself he comes across a bit breathless. “Fancy seeing you here.”</p><p class="western">The joke lands flatter than the earth-style pancakes Krolia and Kolivan had tried to make for him when he finally got out of hospital, after the war. Keith had used the last of them as Frisbees for Kosmo to chase.</p><p class="western">“Do you know where we are?”</p><p class="western">“No,” Keith admits unhappily.</p><p class="western">“Do you know why the space wolf has gone rogue and left us in a box?”</p><p class="western">Keith can’t help the tiniest smile, the gentle easing of the worry around his heart. Because it’s such a typical Shiro response. Not blaming Keith, not saying <em>your</em> space wolf, not making Keith responsible for their plight.</p><p class="western">“Also, no.” Keith sighs.</p><p class="western">“Right.”</p><p class="western">With his keen night vision, Keith can see Shiro well as he crouches above him. He glances at Shiro's clearly off-duty outfit of loose sweats and a white singlet, and he can see his best friend and long-term obsessive crush giving him the once over in return. He blushes.</p><p class="western">“Um, Keith... Why are you naked?” Shiro is not looking at him, eyes trained up as he speaks to the grate and the meagre light coming through. Keith flushes with sick guilt, because of course Shiro never thinks of him naked. Shiro is always good and proper and decent, and not hopelessly in love and lust with his best friend. Keith wishes there was any other direction to could turn or bend to hide the sensitive – and very reactive – parts of himself from Shiro. But there isn’t, because there’s only a scant inch or so of space either side of Shiro’s shoulders, and Keith’s knees have already been forced wide in his struggle not to have Shiro’s boots collide with his toes.</p><p class="western">“I was just... coming out of the shower when the wolf caught me.” Keith wonders if it’s possible to expire from this much embarrassment.</p><p class="western">“Oh. I see.” But if possible, Shiro is blushing even more than Keith is now, and Keith can hear the double thud of Shiro’s heartbeat as is speeds up. In such close proximity, his Galra-sharp senses are too loud to ignore. “Good thing he didn’t dump you on the bridge again, then.”</p><p class="western">Keith does not mention that he would rather be naked on the bridge of the Atlas than stuck in a box with his best friend; who at any moment is going to glance down and see that Keith has an erection, despite all the reasons he shouldn't.</p><p class="western">“So, what do we do now?” Keith asks, trying to keep his tone light and even, and not like he’s dying inside from being so close, and in such a compromising position, with his best friend.</p><p class="western">“I assume shouting for help is pointless? Hmm…”</p><p class="western">Keith watches as Shiro's face goes unnaturally still for a moment as he concentrates on his mental link with Atlas. He wasn't on duty, so he's not her main contact at this hour, but like with the lions, the link is always there. Shiro frowns.</p><p class="western">“I can feel her, but all she says is that she can't help us….” Shiro’s eyes narrow, and he peers out of the grate. “She says the shuttles aren't part of her like the rest of the ship.”</p><p class="western">Oh, the shuttles. They are in a storage box in one of the cargo and transport shuttles; which makes sense now, Keith supposes, as to why no one has walked past and there's no ambient noise to speak of.</p><p class="western">“Smart wolf,” Keith groans.</p><p class="western">“What was that?”</p><p class="western">“Nothing,” Keith murmurs, feeling like an idiot for not realising the truth sooner.</p><p class="western">Because Kosmo <em>is</em> smart, and of course he would know the one place on board the Atlas where the ship herself couldn't interfere. The last few minutes have given Keith the opportunity to think about each time Kosmo has zapped him somewhere without his consent, and the end destination hads always been the same.</p><p class="western">Shiro.</p><p class="western">Kosmo is trying to get him to talk to Shiro about things which aren't work, or training, or the latest weird merchandise the showrunners of <em>The Voltron Show</em> keep sending them. Keith hides his face in both hands and groans loudly this time.</p><p class="western">The wolf is sick of his pining and has locked him naked in a box with the love of his life, who only thinks of him as a friend. Keith wonders if throwing himself out of an airlock when he had the chance would have been better.</p><p class="western">“You OK, Keith?” Shiro’s voice is low and concerned, and it makes a sensation like warm honey roll down Keith’s spine. His cock twitches against the crease of his hip. Of course, Shiro is worried about him. Shiro is his best friend and the nicest person in this, or any other, universe. It would never occur to him to be anything other than helpful.</p><p class="western">“Sure. Yeah.” Keith knows he sounds like a brat. “Peachy.”</p><p class="western">There is a long pause in which Keith can hear nothing but the rush of blood in his ears, combined with the hot pulse of Shiro’s heartbeat. It sounds fast, too fast for someone not having a perfectly understandable panic attack upon finding themselves trapped in a box.</p><p class="western">“Do you, ah, want my shirt?” Shiro offers suddenly, voice catching. “You know to….”</p><p class="western">Oh fuck, Shiro has realised that Keith is not just naked, but naked and sporting a fairly substantial in-proximity-to-Shiro boner. Great. Keith gets the feeling Shiro would be gesturing vaguely southwards if there was, in fact, room to gesture without hitting each other. His voice sounds a little bit disembodied when he replies.</p><p class="western">“I'm not sure you being shirtless would help with that, to be honest.”</p><p class="western">“Oh. Keith-”</p><p class="western">“It doesn't have to be a big deal, OK.” Keith talks fast, forcing the words out as quickly as he can. Because he knows if he lets himself think about what he’s saying, he’s actually going to kill himself by pounding his head against the wall of the container until his skull cracks. “It's just how it is but you don't have to feel any pressure over it. I'll get us out of here somehow and you'll never have to think about it again and-”</p><p class="western">Shiro's touch makes him clam up instantly. It’s just the press of Shiro's forehead to his shoulder, a warm huff of breath which cascades down his front. It makes him shiver in its wake, and all of his attention is suddenly focused on the single point of contact.</p><p class="western">“Keith…” Shiro sounds pained. “Me too.”</p><p class="western">For the longest moment, Keith tries to parse these two words through his mind in a way which makes sense. He fails.</p><p class="western">“What?”</p><p class="western">“Keith…”</p><p class="western">But Keith’s hands are already moving of their own accord. There's only scant inches between them in the box and no time for either of them to pull back as Keith brushes his fingers over the unfamiliar and unmistakable shape of Shiro's hard on through a single layer of cotton sweatpants. Keith sucks in a breath at the same moment as Shiro moans.</p><p class="western">Shiro is hard, and <em>right here.</em> It’s one thing to see your best friend and crush naked when assisting him with basic personal hygiene tasks after you help bring him back from being dead, and quite another to feel the shape of his arousal in your hand. Keith bites back a whimper. Shiro is as built here as the rest of his impressive, awe-inspiring musculature suggests.</p><p class="western">“I mean, it's really warm and cramped in here and-” Keith knows he’s trying to find any excuse for Shiro’s cock brushing his fingers, other than the thing he so desperately wants to hear. But Shiro’s breath stutters and Keith can feel the effect against his bare skin.</p><p class="western">“No Keith, it's just because it's you.”</p><p class="western">Keith’s head spins, he wonders if him passing out cold will improve the situation.</p><p class="western">“W-what?”</p><p class="western">There is another beat of silence, and Keith turns his face just enough as Shiro lifts his head to meet his best friend’s eyes. Shiro is staring at him, his soft grey eyes almost entirely pupil with how wide they are and how dark it is in the box. The pale striped shadows of the grate pale over his face, echoing the line of his scar and highlighting his mouth. Keith only realises he’s licked his lips when he hears the wet sound of them parting.</p><p class="western">Suddenly Shiro's hands are no longer on the wall by his head, but tightly wrapped around his hips, tugging him down. Keith spine is pressed against the floor, his neck at an awkward and uncomfortable angle where he’s crushed against the wall of the box. There's no room for his legs now, and they are curled up one foot braced against the ceiling, the other pinned against the other wall by Shiro’s prosthetic shoulder. Shiro is kneeling between his thighs, and Keith can’t breathe.</p><p class="western">Shiro hovers above him, and Keith's Galra senses can tell that his best friend is hotter than usual, his pulse faster, and he smells spicy and delicious. He smells a bit like Ulaz and Thace do just before they depart for their private quarters. Considering the very large shape of the erection Keith can still feel against his hand, that last thing shouldn’t be as surprising as it is. He blinks as he realises that despite being manhandled onto his back, he hasn’t moved his hand other than to cup his palm more securely around Shiro’s cloth covered erection. And Shiro is staring at him, big hands wrapping so far around Keith’s waist that it makes him feel breakable and little in a way that even the other blades never manage when they spar.</p><p class="western">And Shiro… growls.</p><p class="western">“S-Shiro?” Fuck, he can’t even keep his voice level.</p><p class="western">“Keith.” Shiro’s voice is dark and low and its only ever sounded close to this once before. Keith was on his back then too, trapped beneath Shiro’s bulk; but one look in Shiro’s eyes and Keith knows that this has been brought on by something completely different. Shiro’s hands squeeze tighter, pinning Keith to the floor even as his hips arch up to relieve the pressure on his spine, and Keith whimpers.</p><p class="western">He can’t move, he feels frozen in place even as Shiro’s hands – one body warm and one delightfully cool – move over him. Mapping out his body with firm movements that are just short of bruising. Then Shiro wraps his textured exoskin fingers around Keith’s cock, and Keith’s mind goes almost completely blank.</p><p class="western">Shiro is touching him, actually touching him, and he’s overwhelmed and achingly hard. He can’t help the sharp, hot throb of his cock in his best friend’s grip. Keith shudders, opening his mouth to say something, but Shiro’s other hand is in the way, fingers pushing into his mouth and pressing against his tongue. Keith pants and whines and suddenly he’s shaking apart, drooling around Shiro’s fingers and splattering his own stomach with come. And he wants to die of embarrassment, except for the way Shiro’s pulse kicks up in response, his natural scent flushing with heat and spice.</p><p class="western">“Shiro? I- I’m sorry…” Keith has no idea what he’s apologising for, and Shiro doesn’t let him finish. The moment Keith’s draws a breath, he pushes his human fingers deep back into Keith’s mouth.</p><p class="western">“Suck,” he commands, and Keith is helpless to resist.</p><p class="western">He sucks, stroking Shiro’s fingers with his tongue. Drool escapes the corner of his lips and rolls across his cheek, and Shiro’s eyes never leave his the whole time.</p><p class="western">“Fuck, Keith…” Shiro sound more wrecked than Keith feels, his voice all dark edged and hard, his eyes still soft. The set of his jaw is determined, in that way everyone has learnt means that <em>Shiro is going to win</em>. “Look at you, you’re so fucking pretty. So beautiful.” Keith wants to twist away and blush at the praise, but he can’t. His heart is beating so hard even Shiro must be able to hear it. “I want you so much.”</p><p class="western">“Wha-” he tries, but Shiro presses against his tongue again to shut him up.</p><p class="western">“No. I’ve wanted you for ages. For years Keith.” For years? How the fuck have they been obliviously dancing around each other for years? “We’re stuck in here, and I’m not letting this opportunity slip away again.”</p><p class="western">Keith’s so caught up wondering when the first opportunity Shiro had was, that he <em>almost</em> doesn’t notice the sweep of Shiro’s prosthetic hand over his abdomen, gathering up his cum. He definitely <em>does</em> notice it though when those same fingers dip down between legs he cannot close, and drip the evidence of his own orgasm onto his hole.</p><p class="western">“Mmph-!” He could bite Shiro’s fingers to get them out of his mouth, but he doesn’t really want to. Shiro searches Keith’s eyes with his own, and his smile turns into a self-satisfied smirk.</p><p class="western">“That’s not a ‘no’, Spitfire.”</p><p class="western">Keith is astonished that he doesn’t pass out from the force of his heart pounding arrhythmically against his ribs as Shiro causally drops the nickname on him, even as his fingertips touch ever-so-lightly at Keith’s hole. No one else calls him that, no one. Shiro had been the one to jokingly christen him ‘Spitfire’ after Keith beat his score on the simulator, and it had become their little private joke. A way to make Keith smile when nothing else was right or good. That Shiro still thinks of him like that – some plucky, talented kid with a bad attitude and a propensity for getting into fights – should sting, but instead it makes Keith’s heart flood with warmth. He moans around the fingers in his mouth, pulse fluttering when Shiro pulls at his lips with his thumb, letting out another trickle of spit before smearing it around.</p><p class="western">Shiro likes making a mess, and that is a fucking revelation, considering that this is a man who Keith is fairly certain presses and folds <em>every</em> items of clothing he owns. He whines, flattening his tongue against Shiro’s fingers, feeling the beat of the other man’s pulse through the contact. He lets his jaw go slack despite the awkward angle of his head and neck. It opens his throat and Shiro’s fingers slip in further. Above him, Shiro groans.</p><p class="western">“Fuck…” There’s wonder in his voice, like he can’t quite believe what he’s doing. But is doesn’t stop him from pressing in, playing against Keith’s tongue and the blunt nubs of his teeth.</p><p class="western">But it’s not enough distraction to keep Keith from feeling every movement, because there’s so little space in the box, they can’t get away from each other. Keith shifts the one foot he has wedged into the corner of the box and action slides his inner thigh over Shiro's hip. Shiro’s breath comes short for a moment, the pulse filling Keith’s ears faster and louder than his own. Then Shiro shifts in an echo of the motion, and his prosthetic fingers press over Keith’s hole again as his elbow braces on Keith's knee. His cum on Shiro's hand is slightly cool and tacky along with the wetness, but far from minding, Shiro’s mouth curls up in a delighted, private smile as he begins to trace Keith’s rim with his fingertips.</p><p class="western">Shiro’s not looking at him now, all his attention focused on the lewd spread of Keith's hips, the swell of his ass, and the tight clench and flutter of his hole as he’s teased. Keith blinks, his eyes watering, and the slide of hot salt tears down over his cheeks and into his hair somehow feels right, amongst all the other sensations. Shiro notices that though.</p><p class="western">“Am I making you cry, Spitfire? Does it feel that good?” They aren’t questions Keith is supposed to answer, even if he could speak. Shiro is almost talking like he isn't even there, like he’s alone and imagining what he wants. The very idea that Shiro thinks of him when he’s alone in his bed is enough to make Keith's cock twitch and jerk against his abs, leaving a messy spurt of precum. He’s fully hard again, already. “So desperate. So needy. Poor Spitfire.” Shiro punctuate his words with pressure, the very tip of his finger breaching Keith's rim and slipping out against just as quickly. It’s the most frustrating kind of tease. “Bet no one touches you like this. Everyone’s too intimidated by the Blade of Marmora and the Black Paladin to dare try.”</p><p class="western">He’s right, of course, Keith is apparently scary to lots of people, intimidating to many others, and an awe-inspiring hero to half the universe. And he knows that it helps that he maintains most of his outwardly spiky personality. It’s not that he hates people, he just hates the idea of offending someone with something he says or does. There are plenty of people – heck, all the other paladins, and Allura, and most of the Blades – better at diplomacy than him. Keith's happy to leave the complicating talking to them and put all his efforts into being good with his sword and his space ship. But despite all of that, there have been attempts, people brave or confident or foolhardy enough to want to try and woo Keith Kogane. They’ve all come crashing down in flames, because Keith’s pulse has only ever beat for one person, and little else matters.</p><p class="western"><a id="__DdeLink__548_2901739639" name="__DdeLink__548_2901739639"></a> But Keith can’t say any of this, because Shiro’s fingers are in his mouth and he’s gathering up Keith's leaking pre with his other hand. Pushing it back into Keith, so that his eyes roll up into his head and his legs quiver with the reactionary spasms he can’t control, and he can’t kick out because there’s no room in this storage container in which the space wolf has trapped them. Shiro is watching the way his fingers breach Keith’s body, and Keith wonders just how much sensation his newest prosthetic gives him. Breathless, vision blurry at the edges, he clenches around Shiro's hand as the man adds a second finger, and he gets his answer.</p><p class="western">“So tight Spitfire. That’s it, squeeze around me. Show me just how good you’re going to milk my cock.”</p><p class="western">Keith whines at the words, the darkness in Shiro's voice paired with the focus in his eyes. The way he looks at Keith like he owns him, like there’s not any other way this could be.</p><p class="western">There isn’t. Keith’s been gone on Shiro since before he perfected the art of jerking off in silence in the dorms.</p><p class="western">Every helpless pulse of Keith’s cock has Shiro abandoning him, reaching up to gather his mess before pushing it up inside him. Each time his fingers go deeper, each time he strokes more, wiggles his fingers and plays with Keith’s rim. He’s not touched Keith's prostate once, and that doesn’t seem to matter, because just the fact that’s it’s Shiro touching him so intimately, filling him up with his hands, is enough to keep Keith riding the edge between pleasure and oversensitivity. He’s shaking, his abdomen and chest heaving as the muscles of his hole quiver around the invasion of Shiro’s hand. His jaw aches and he’s a mess of spit and tears and sweat and his own cum, and he cannot look away from Shiro's face even for a second.</p><p class="western">When Shiro finally begins to scissor his fingers, deliberately stretching him out, Keith gives up all pretence and simply whimpers with need.</p><p class="western">Then Shiro is leaving him, both hands withdrawing, strings of fluid connecting them for a moment before those hands are pushing down his sweats. The big man braces his spine against the roof to lift his knees from the floor, wiping Keith’s mess over his cock.</p><p class="western">“I’m going to fuck you now, Spitfire. Gonna have you like this if it kills me.”</p><p class="western">Keith’s pupils blow in reverse, his vision going sharp and bright as his eyes go yellow at the edges. He doesn’t know if Shiro can see enough to notice, or if having noticed, cares that Keith now has fangs.</p><p class="western">“Shiro…. Fuck. Wait-”</p><p class="western">But clearly Shiro has waited long enough, because the only reply Keith gets is a snarl worthy of the space wolf with a bone he has no intention of sharing. Shiro’s massive hands are wrapping tight around his hips, fingertips and thumbs digging into the soft space inside the jut of his hipbones.</p><p class="western">Shiro’s cockhead touches at his entrance, and there is a moment of stillness and quiet lasting just long enough for Keith to feel Shiro’s pulse through the other man’s dick, and then Shiro is watching as he forces himself inside of Keith’s body. Keith can’t breathe, let alone speak, because if Shiro looked big in the half light and felt big through his sweats, it’s nothing compared to this. The stretch goes on forever, the pressure builds inside him until he thinks he might pass out. The desperate whine he makes would be embarrassing enough, without the visual proof in Shiro’s smile of how much his friend likes the noise. Shiro smirks, proud, unable to tear his eyes away as he sinks, and sinks, deep into Keith. Only when Keith feels his friend’s hips tight against his ass does he even dare to try and draw breath. Shiro is inside him, seated all the way up to the hilt, filling every place inside himself he didn’t know could be filled. Shiro pants with the tightness of the squeeze, the atmosphere inside the box is close and humid with sweat, and something about knowing Shiro is breathing him in – that they are sharing their air – is somehow just as hot as the fact that Shiro’s cock is <em>inside</em> him.</p><p class="western">Keith manages a single, deep breath. His diaphragm protesting at the pressure from below, from above, from the crush of his ribcage inside the box, and then he moves his hand from the wall to wrap around the back of Shiro’s neck.</p><p class="western">It an awkward angle because of the box, but Keith yanks Shiro down hard and presses their lips together. The kiss is off centre and messy, but it’s a kiss. He kissed Shiro. Shiro, his best friend. His best friend who is fucking him.</p><p class="western">Keith feels dizzy in a way which has nothing to do with lack of oxygen.</p><p class="western">“I’ve always wanted to do that.”</p><p class="western">“K-Keith?” Shiro finally tears his eyes up to meet Keith’s gaze, and Keith manages to smile.</p><p class="western">“You think I haven’t been in love with you for years?” He gasps out, his body shaking. “C’mon Shiro….”</p><p class="western">“Spitfire?” Now Shiro sounds dazed, his eyes wide, blinking into focus as though his libido has finally allowed him to remember that’s he’s not just living out a fantasy; that Keith really is here too. The skin under his cheeks heats – not quite a blush, but enough for Keith’s Galra senses to detect – and it’s somehow adorable.</p><p class="western">“Shiro,” Keith pitches his voice to sound serious, because otherwise he’s going to whine and whimper again. He’s only <em>not</em> rolling his hips because there’s literally no room in which to do so. “I have been in love with you for years. Since before the war. Since… since fucking forever, OK? Now will you please just <em>move</em>?”</p><p class="western">He clenches every muscle as best he can, rocking his ass in a jerky, aborted motion, because it’s all he can do. Being so split open around Shiro’s cock and so plugged up by him is almost too much to take. Keith can feel the edge of his own orgasm drawing uncomfortably close, considering he’s already made an embarrassment of himself by coming the second Shiro got a hand on him.</p><p class="western">It seems to work though, because Shiro kisses him back. It’s more a press of tongues and a wet smear over his lips than an actual kiss because of the angle they’re at, but then his hips are pulling away, every inch dragging over Keith’s million over-sensitized and inexperienced nerve endings. He gives Keith just enough time to draw breath, before fucking in once more. The slam of his body makes Keith choke on his own tongue, and he wonders if it’s possible to survive so much sensation.</p><p class="western">And then Shiro starts speaking again.</p><p class="western">“<em>Stars</em>, Spitfire…. Look at you. Look at your eager little hole stretching so wide for my cock.” Shiro punctuates his reverie with long, hard thrusts, pushing into Keith like he can’t quite believe how much of himself he can get to fit into Keith’s far narrower body. Shiro can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of their fucking, and Keith can’t look at anything other than Shiro’s face. “Love how you open up for me, so tight, pulling me in like you can’t help it. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t see, Spitfire. Going to make you come on my cock as I fill you up with my cum.”</p><p class="western">Every word causes a fresh jolt of endorphins to flood through his system, and Keith doesn’t need to look to know that he is hot and leaking messily against his skin. Shiro does though.</p><p class="western">“Pretty… so pretty, Spitfire. Fuck- look how wet you are. You want it?” The drag of his heavy shaft across Keith’s prostate is some kind of exquisite torture. “Take it all in… so beautiful, Keith. So full of me.”</p><p class="western">And he is, Keith is all over sweaty and too hot and the air inside the storage container is thick and musky with their scents, and Keith cannot get enough. He wants it all, but his limbs twitch and jerk, feet braced against the crate, creaking with pressure as though he wants to get away. But he can’t, there’s nowhere to go, no breathing room or moment of relief. There’s just Shiro, big and solid and smiling in smug satisfaction as he reams Keith mercilessly into the hard flooring. The force is too much, the slide of Shiro’s cock deep inside him, moulding and rearranging him to Shiro’s liking, makes him feel like a toy. Shiro is rocking deep now, the top of his head against the wall, his whole body braced over Keith as he fucks himself into his hole.</p><p class="western">Keith claws at the back of his neck, yanking him down for another kiss, and the moment Shiro’s lips touch his, he is shaking apart. His body tensing and collapsing as he comes all over himself once more, writhing on the thick length of Shiro’s cock inside him.</p><p class="western">“Fuck- Spitfire-”</p><p class="western">But Shiro doesn’t finish the rest of his sentence before he is slamming into Keith so hard that his skull knocks into the box painfully, hips snapping forward, hands so tight around him that Keith knows he’ll have bruises once the purple stripes of his Galran patterns fade away. Shiro seems to grow inside him, and then Keith is whimpering as he feels the hot pulse of Shiro’s cock where it splits him open, his orgasm draining out of him and into Keith. Shiro is frozen, suspended above him, mouth open and eyes glazed and unseeing as he shakes through his ecstasy in near total silence.</p><p class="western">“S-Shiro?” Keith manages once he’s fairly certain he has enough spare breath to talk.</p><p class="western">Shiro doesn’t answer, but groans, and then his hips begin to move again, a slow roll which thrusts his still hard dick in and out of Keith in tiny, earth-shattering increments. Keith whines, gritting his teeth as ripples of pleasure bordering on pain spread through him. Shiro spares him a glance, just one, and the widening of his eyes and sudden spike of his pulse suggests that his friend has realised that Keith now has golden eyes and slit pupils, fangs and a lilac blush to go with the dark purple markings over his hips, shoulders and cheeks.</p><p class="western">Keith suspects they’re going to have to have a conversation about that, later.</p><p class="western">But it’s clearly not enough of a concern to stop him, because no sooner has Shiro’s dark grey gaze moved back to staring at Keith’s hole, puffy and stretched around his cock, than he starts moving again. The thrusts start small, deepening as Shiro begins to pull out further with each one. Until he’s using the whole of the remaining space in the box and whole of his considerable length to pound once more into Keith's sensitive flesh. The slick squelch of their cum – and something in Keith burns to remember that he was prepared and opened up with his own fluids – is lewd and loud between them.</p><p class="western"><a id="__DdeLink__226_702613153" name="__DdeLink__226_702613153"></a> “Fuck, spitfire. Look at you. Such a good boy for me. Yeah, that’s it… take it all. Nnnghh…” Shiro’s moan comes with a deep roll of his hips, bringing himself flush to Keith’s ass once again before he grinds himself deep within Keith like he’s trying to mould him from the inside. “Yeah, so perfect… gotta keep you wet and full of me. Make sure you know who you belong to.”</p><p class="western">And the words should make him angry, he should want to fight Shiro for that, but he can’t. And not just because there isn’t space, but because he’s always been gone on Shiro and there’s no point pretending any more. Keith wedges his elbow back into the corner of the box, bracing his palm against the floor, and hoists himself up even though the angle is bad. He makes Shiro to chase him with his hips, but there’s not enough space to actually force Shiro’s cock from his body. The new angle does give Keith a view between their bodies, and even though he was aiming for Shiro’s mouth, he too gets caught in staring at the obscene way they are joined together. His vision is far better in the dark than Shiro’s, and the remnants of his cum along with the froth coating Shiro’s dick glimmer in the wan light.</p><p class="western">“Stars…”</p><p class="western">Then Shiro slams back into him and all the breath leaves Keith’s lungs in a rush, replaced by pleasure and desire and the realization of a longing his universe has revolved around for years. Shiro’s mouth hangs open, his lips wet, eyes half closed as he hammers into Keith’s, each thrust timed to his heartbeat, and Keith’s soft moans and whimpers are a delicious counterpoint to Shiro’s forceful grunts. Keith knows he’s hard again, doubts that Shiro realises, doesn’t much care if he gets to come at all. Shiro wants to use him for his pleasure, and Keith is more than happy to let him do so. He cranes his neck forward until their foreheads meet, and Shiro’s eyes flick back up and lock on his own.</p><p class="western">“Keith…”</p><p class="western">“Yeah…”</p><p class="western">“<em>Keith!</em>”</p><p class="western">“Shiro. Ahhhh-! Shiro… I love you.”</p><p class="western">Shiro’s eyes go so wide they are almost all pupil, his heart rate stuttering violently at Keith’s words. There is a tiny but terrifying moment where Keith wonders if confessing all over again right now will actually kill his best friend. But Shiro slams into him, silent and quaking, every muscle tense as he comes. Then he’s dropping down and groaning and kissing Keith and trying to talk all at the same time. Keith has to push him away as best as he can, because he can’t really breathe and there’s no room and Shiro’s still inside him for fuck’s sake.</p><p class="western">“Keith, I love you,” Shiro pants in a rush. “I love you.” And then without warning his cool prosthetic hand leaves Keith’s hip, fingers tracing down the stripes over his hips to his cock. “Keith… come on, Spitfire.” Shiro licks his lips and Keith has the sudden need to get out of this box and get somewhere where Shiro can get his mouth around him. The idea is thrilling, and Shiro is clearly thinking along the same lines as he jacks Keith slowly in his loose fist. “Can’t wait to taste you. You’re so fucking pretty when you come.”</p><p class="western">“Shiro!” Keith can’t toss his head, there isn’t room, and he doesn’t want to look away even though he feels suddenly embarrassed by his body’s obvious reactions to Shiro’s touch and his praise. It’s ridiculous to be embarrassed now after all.</p><p class="western">“That’s right, Spitfire. Come for me. Show me how bad you want it, Keith.”</p><p class="western">Keith cries and smacks the wall of the container with his fist as he comes in Shiro’s hand. Shiro continues to stroke him until he stops twitching, rolling his foreskin back over the no longer fully purple cockhead; before moving instantly to rub his hand through the mess of Keith’s orgasm.</p><p class="western">“Fucking hell… <em>Keith</em>.”</p><p class="western">“Shiro.” Keith doesn’t actually know what he wants to say, but he likes the shape of Shiro’s name.</p><p class="western">“Keith. You’re so beautiful.”</p><p class="western">Keith whines.</p><p class="western">“Don’t do that. You are. And I can practically hear you thinking about being ‘too Galra’. Stop it.”</p><p class="western">“Shiro… do you think we could have this conversation when your cock isn’t still in me?”</p><p class="western">Shiro’s laugh is like a balm over his flushed skin, and Shiro ducks down to kiss him. He’s gone soft inside Keith, but he doesn’t make a move to pull out. Keith can feel the seep of Shiro’s cum leaking out of him, and he clenches automatically.</p><p class="western">“I’m such a mess.”</p><p class="western">“Get used to it, Spitfire.” Shiro drags the pad of his human thumb over Keith’s lower lip, then his teeth just as Keith’s fangs slide back into their more usual shape. “We’re going to have all future conversations with my dick inside you.”</p><p class="western">“Does that mean I no longer have to come to Coalition board meetings?” Keith smirks. “Or are you going to fuck me on the conference table whilst Slav dictates how many realities might be destroyed by you coming more than once?”</p><p class="western">Shiro makes a noise akin to a dying star, then moans as he finally slides free of Keith’s body. The wet slurp of cum which drips from him is not quiet enough to be covered by Shiro’s words.</p><p class="western">“Please, never mention Slav when either of us are naked. Ever. I’ll do anything.”</p><p class="western">“Anything?” Keith is almost shamed by how quickly Shiro’s desperate tone makes him sit up – relatively speaking because they’re still pinned together in the box – and take interest. His cock twitches against his abs.</p><p class="western">“You know I would suck you off right now if we weren’t stuck in this stupid container.” Shiro huffs, blowing his bangs out of his face. They fall back instantly and he frowns. Keith smiles; his best friend is such an adorable dork. Shiro looks back at him again. “You love me?”</p><p class="western">“Yeah. I love you, Shiro.”</p><p class="western">“Keith… I love you too. I’ve been in love with you for years, too.”</p><p class="western">There is a moment of stillness between them, and Keith sees the rush of his life since he met Shiro. A million memories when he could have said something, or Shiro could have said something, where they could have kissed instead of hugged, shared each other’s beds instead of curling up to sleep alone. And then he sees every laugh and joke, every eye roll and shared silent glance of frustration made bearable by each other’s presence, and he can’t bring himself to regret not knowing until now. Because it’s all been good. It’s all be <em>Keith and Shiro</em>, and he wouldn’t do it differently for a million more universes.</p><p class="western">Keith sighs out a laugh, then wraps both hands around Shiro’s neck and drags him into a kiss which goes on and on, neither of them in a hurry to break apart or taste anything else.</p><p class="western">The noise of the shuttle door opening, footsteps on the ramp along with the heavy yet skittish thump of Kosmo’s paws, jolts them back into reality.</p><p class="western">“Kosmo, c’mon dude. Why are we in the shuttle? Can’t you just zap me wherever we need to go?”</p><p class="western">Keith’s eyes go wide, and then he relaxes.</p><p class="western">“Matt,” he mouths softly.</p><p class="western">“Matt,” Shiro confirms with a whisper. He glances down at Keith and the mess they’ve made. Suddenly he looks worried, and that won’t do. Keith licks into his mouth for another searing kiss.</p><p class="western">“It’s OK, Matt’s seen me naked before.”</p><p class="western">Keith freezes, because either there’s an echo in the storage container suddenly, or Shiro just said the exact same thing. He arches an eyebrow, but Shiro beats him to it.</p><p class="western">“This is a story I’m going to want to hear.”</p><p class="western">“Yeah, same,” Keith breathes.</p><p class="western">The light falling across them vanishes, blocked out by a pair of legs standing close. Keith grins, and Shiro’s smile is a perfect reply.</p><p class="western">“Brace yourself, Spitfire.”</p><p class="western">“Kosmo? Fuck, things would be a lot easier if you had thumbs. Or, y’know, you talked to anyone except Keith… Yeah yeah, I’ll open the damn box.”</p><p class="western">Light floods in, bright and artificially harsh, broken only by the silhouette of a very surprised Matthew Holt. Kosmo woofs, he has Keith’s clothes. Shiro can’t see Matt’s face as he takes in the entirety of the sight before him, but Keith is fairly certain they will all be treated later to Matt’s intense reaction to the puddle of cum on the floor between Keith’s thighs. When he finally meets Keith’s eyes, he’s beaming.</p><p class="western">“Fucking finally! Get up boys and get some clothes on, let’s go find out who finally won the betting pool on your two actually noticing each other!”</p><p class="western">*</p><p class="western">When several hundred extra GAC arrive in Keith’s account the following day, tagged ‘K with love A’, Keith chooses not to question it. The space wolf gets extra dinner, and he gives Atlas’s bulkhead outside <em>their</em> quarters an extra pat when he passes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please come chat with us on <a href="https://twitter.com/SashaDistan">Twitter</a></p><p>This author responds to comments.</p><p>Thank you to the incredible <a href="https://twitter.com/@leandralena">Lole</a> for being an awesome beta reader.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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